Close Encounters
by SpiritWave
Summary: A set of 'Imagine your OTP' prompts. Varying length, genre and rating. Oneshots/Drabbles. All AoKuro.
1. Close Encounters

Well, here comes the fic I promised. Not very long, though. Sorry. D: This was for the Imagine your OTP prompt: Imagine your OTP running butt naked from the police at night because they got caught having sex on a park bench.

Not really the actual prompt, but the aftermath. :/ Hope you guys like it anyway, and expect a lot AoKuro because these babies are my OTP. UwU

Well, here you go, lovelies~! Enjoy!

* * *

**Close Encounters**

"Well," began Aomine in between huffs, "it could have been worse."

Kuroko's back was facing him, and while he wasn't one to show anger, Aomine could tell he was beyond just pissed. They were in front of their apartment complex, catching their breath. Aomine had the decency to not do or say anything while waiting, given that what had just happened _had _been his fault. Maybe.

"I told you to _wait_." Kuroko hissed. "We were in a park, Daiki. A very _public_ park. Where kids, specifically my students, go out and play and where they could have seen us. Me." Daiki nodded and hoped to whatever was looking out for him would allow him to keep his life. "But," Kuroko raised an eyebrow, and an also his fist, but Aomine decided to ignore that, "it was so good."

Kuroko threw both his arms up in exasperation and whipped his head around, closing in on his lover while he pointed at his chest. "We- You ran around the city pants-less. After getting caught having _sex_" Kuroko made sure to lower his voice, lest someone hear them, "by your colleague, in a park." Aomine shrugged, standing up to his full height now that he had recovered. "He's heard worse. And Tetsu, come on. You enjoyed it, too." Leering at him, he leaned over Kuroko with his arm against the building. "Besides, you wouldn't have agreed to it if you didn't want it in the first place."

Kuroko pushed his hands against Aomine's chest, shaking his head in resignation. "You promised me 2 vanilla shakes a day for a month if we did." Aomine let out a throaty laugh that lasted for several seconds before answering. "Your dick still got ha-" He felt the air being knocked out of him as Kuroko delivered his improved Ignite Pass Kai on his stomach. Aomine fell to the ground, holding himself and then glared at his lover. "Oi, Tetsu, what was-"

"Daiki. You still don't have any pants on."

Aomine looked down and realized that indeed, he didn't have any pants on. He also realized he didn't _know_ where his pants were.

"And you're not sleeping in here tonight. Find somewhere else. I can't imagine Momoi letting you in for her kids to see you like that, though." Kuroko quickly opened the door and got in, shutting it behind him, leaving a stunned Aomine behind. Aomine only had the strength in him to complain once.

"But, we didn't actually finish!"

Aomine made sure, once Kuroko opened the door again a couple of hours later, to let slip a remark on Kuroko's deep blush before he left. Kuroko wasn't sure if he should have let him out there or not, but then decided it was unsightly to have a naked, grown man outside such a beautiful building.

By no means was it because he couldn't actually bring himself to leave him in the cold.

* * *

I know it was short, sorry. T.T But I'm currently writing a longer one, so wait for that. ;D

Anyway, I love writing fluff (not sure if it's really fluff, though?)so this made me really happy. XD

See you next time!

Tats, SW.


	2. Old Habits Die Hard

Ahhhhhhh second Imagine your OTP prompt. I can't remember what it was, but it was something along the lines of "Imagine your OTP trying to cook and failing, but they end up covered in food and flour." Something like that gah. I have a lot of these so I decided to change this into a multichaptered fic. The name still fits, and all of it is AoKuro so I don't see the point in making a new fic for every drabble I write. I hope you understand, and please enjoy!

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**Old Habits Die Hard**

"Daiki."

Aomine shuddered when he heard an icy voice call behind him. He turned around and cringed, or he would have if countless particles of flour hadn't fallen into his eyes. As Aomine rubbed frantically at them, the policeman hoped to god that Tetsu wouldn't notice the quite obvious state the kitchen was in.

That is to say very, very dirty.

"Daiki, I cleaned the kitchen two hours ago."

Aomine shrank into himself and averted his eyes, opening his mouth to answer or beg for forgiveness, not fully knowing which, but he was cut off short by Testu, anyway.

"Two hours."

The taller man would have tried to escape if it wasn't for Tetsu covering the only exit. This was also probably aided by Aomine's seemingly petrified legs, but that wasn't something he was willing to admit. It wasn't like Tetsu- a foot shorter than _him, _ Tetsu, _scared _Aomine. At the thought, his wounded pride took a stand for him, only to be shot down by his lover's glare. He swiped his cerulean eyes over every surface in the kitchen, steadily growing darker by the second. Aomine tried to placate him by showing him the bowl filled with an attempt at cooking actual food, since take-out was their breakfast, lunch and dinner five days a week. Not that it looked or tasted better, but Aomine figured he got gold stars for trying.

This only angered Tetsu further, as of course, of _course_, the contents in the bowl had to somehow fly out of his hands and onto his lover's clothes. Tetsu let out a little hiss of barely restrained anger, and balled up his fists as if to stop himself from choking the source of it. 'Well', Aomine thought uselessly, 'I guess I've lived long enough.'

He tentatively moved forward to help the sludge off Tetsu, but the shorter man stepped back immediately, slapping his hands so as to forbid Aomine from touching him. The teacher took the bowl off from him and went to the sink, turning the faucet on. As he furiously scrubbed on every single thing the taller man had touched, Aomine could hear complaints muttered under his breath. '…third time this year. Maybe I should burn all of this. Is this bowl even usable anymore?'

"We agreed you wouldn't go into the kitchen until 3 hours after I cleaned it," began Tetsu as he slammed down one of the bowls in the drainer. His voice pitched according to his hands' gestures, turning around and taking the rest of the cooking utensils Aomine had used, the pale man grimaced at the possibly radioactive blob on the whisk. "What were you even trying to make, Daiki? This is-" Aomine felt heat rush to his cheeks quickly, and his first reaction was to lash out.

"I was trying to make something for us! I'm sorry my cooking isn't to your-" Aomine found himself speechless as Tetsu started to laugh. His eyes widened, and suddenly the blush he was sporting wasn't out of embarrassment, but happiness. Tetsu never laughed, and when he did, no one but Aomine got to hear it. Quiet and quite dorky if the man described it, but nonetheless beautiful to his ears. The policeman tugged his shorter lover into his arms, inhaling the scent that was distinctively _Tetsu._

After a few minutes, he looked over to the remaining sludge on the countertop, and immediately felt Tetsu tense up as he followed his eyes. "Daiki-" Aomine just grinned, and made sure Tetsu had no way of escaping. "No. Daiki, get that away from-" He smeared it all over his pale cheeks and forehead, and slipped his hand in Tetsu's hair for good measure, too. Of course, everything was returned full-force, or probably worse.

Aomine found himself fighting his angry boyfriend, trying to push his sludge-covered hands into his 'whatever they touched first'. Tetsu, being the glorious little bastard that he was, got the muck in his nose. "Gah!" Aomine almost fell backwards, only saved thanks to the fact that their kitchen was tiny. They both fell onto each other, and after complete silence, small giggles went to snorting, and then to ab inducing laughter.

This lasted for several minutes, and as their almost-screaming slowly subsided into chuckling, Tetsu leaned into Aomine and realized all over again why he fell in love with him. "Thank you for doing this."

"Anytime, babe."

"Although… it _was _very bad."

"Oi, you didn't have to add that. I tried."

Aomine stood up, and held his fist out for Tetsu to bump.

"Chinese sound good?"

Kuroko rolled his eyes. "Of course."

* * *

I was supposed to write my first longfic, but I get distracted pretty easily, and this has been on my computer for like a month... So I decided to finish it. I'm sorry for the lack of activity, but I swear I'm working on my fics! Especially now, since HOLIDAYSSSSSSSS.

Anyway, I hope you guys liked it!

Tats, SW


	3. Lines on the Canvas

From the imagine your OTP prompt "Imagine person A of your OTP kissing person B's scars." and 3am inspiration.

* * *

**Lines on the Canvas**

It's a bit hard to ignore the way Aomine's back instantly tightens with tension at the light touch of his fingers- a bit alarming, really. But he soon relaxes and gets right back into it, kissing his lips, shoulders, earlobes, ribs and that one amazing spot on his neck, and Kuroko can't help but gasp loudly and place his arms around Aomine's back.

It's their first time making love, after countless kisses and millions of regrets more, and Kuroko's relishing it all- Aomine's voice, his skin, the way he says his name and his warmth, from the way he smells to the way his breath quickens whenever Kuroko arcs his back.

Both of them are almost there, right at that moment when he can barely see straight anymore, and the height of their love and passion is pouring through them when he slides his hands down Aomine's broad back, and in turn Aomine tenses again and stops moving. Kuroko doesn't understand why, until he forces himself to concentrate on his fingers, and feels the uneven bumps on dark skin, running through small lines and large ones.

There's dozens of them.

Aomine plays it off like it's nothing, raising himself and shrugging in quick succession, getting back into his clothes in a matter of seconds and not even looking him in the eye- Kuroko believes he has more than a fair amount of reasons to be preoccupied.

He doesn't even bother to get dressed, (too much of a hassle, really- especially since there are far more worrying things than Aomine seeing him naked) doesn't even bother to speak as he rips off Aomine shirt from his back, and the man does nothing to stop it. Just sits there and waits for Kuroko's critical eye as his back curls into nervous constriction.

There's a moment of taut silence between them; Aomine's back towards him, and Kuroko's just staring, staring and searching and looking and trying to understand what lies in front of him. He's seen the other nude far too many times to count- whether they were showering in the stalls in the boy's locker room after a particularly arduous practice or shirtless to escape burning up in the sweltering summer heat, and he's never, ever seen those marks on him before.

They're all around the entirety of his back, deep and shallow, white and faded out and it scares him- some looked like they weren't too recent, but looked too new to be called old. Darting eyes followed the ridges and marks, leading into what he could see of Aomine's ribs and arms, and while much less frequent, he had some of them there, too.

Kuroko puts his hands on the biggest one, running his finger from Aomine's right shoulder blade all the way to the middle of his spine, feeling the bumps his column and the rest of the lines form, stopping at the bottom only to trace it back up, over and over again.

He doesn't understand.

There are so many questions going through his mind. When? How? Who? Where?

Why?

Why?

His boyfriend tenses yet again as Kuroko rests his head on his shoulder, eyes closed as he slowly exhales a breath he didn't know he was holding. Kuroko doesn't speak, nor does he move, and waits for his boyfriend to find his voice and explain, because he needs to know. He needs to know the answers to the million and one questions going through his brain, but he won't push, won't push Aomine for answers. And so he lets him set the pace himself.

After one minute and two seconds, Aomine finds his voice. "Tetsu." He begins.

There's a nod from Kuroko's head, signaling the man to continue, but just as soon as he was started, he's at a loss for words again, and the only thing Kuroko does is rub circles with his fingers endlessly on the expanse of his back, only following the patterns the lines make occasionally.

"Tetsu." He repeats.

Kuroko hums as a response.

"Tetsu." There's a desperate tone to his voice, if not indicated by the slight whine in it, it's clear in the way his voice cracks at the end and his pitch gets all screwed up, and it comes out like a torrent of jumbled up words and 'I don't know's.

Things got bad after Kuroko had left, Aomine explains. How he got the scars, how it started with silly skirmishes in the classroom and grew into stupid fights outside the school, how he later started the same stupid fights, joined them and ended them, messed with the wrong people. People he shouldn't have messed with, he admits, but also recognizes that he was so fucked up he couldn't have cared less. He even welcomed it, he says.

His back scars, he begins, are all from being pushed into the ground and against walls and jagged surfaces and rocks and bricks and debris, then he goes on to explain how the deeper lines (six of them, Kuroko counts, and it takes him all of his willpower to not cry for the man, because he apparently lost the ability to do so) are from actual knives- two from students and the rest from those same 'wrong people' he shouldn't have bothered with.

After a moment or two, he then turns around on the bed to face him, slowly gives him his hands, as if he's scared of something- and starts talking again. Albeit his voice is much quieter and solemn, like there's a stone on his back as heavy as the weight of guilt and sorrow is, and that's when Kuroko sees them: the white patches of bumpy skin, lighter than the rest of his hands but not enough so that it's immediately noticeable.

It got progressively worse, Aomine says. He'd suddenly just feel an overwhelming sense of hatred and guilt and hurt and guilt and remorse and regret and guilt, and he'd just go and beat the shit out of the nearest person available, walls if no one was there to bear the onslaught of his grief. Even when his knuckles were bloody and probably broken because screw him if he actually knew how to hold back, and he didn't care if they turned into raw skin and if he could see the blood on the wall and feel the pain over the adrenaline- because he needed to destroy something, even if that something was himself.

He didn't care.

There's a light laugh, cold and filled with loathing. Even if that's what he always says, it was just an excuse to maybe make himself weaker in hopes of finally being able to remember the fun in the passion of his life. But then he laughs again; he was too scared to do it correctly, didn't hate himself enough or perhaps loved the sport too much- Or maybe he just hated the world too much to sacrifice anything to it, (it was their fault after all, they had given up on him, not the other way around) and so he stopped, resorting to emotionally abusing his best friend and teammates instead.

Kuroko has to hug Aomine, because he's trembling, shaking, and it moves his core so deeply just to speak of it, like a twisted kind of PTSD brought onto himself, by himself- it's hard not to.

He goes on and on, and on, and on. Too many scars to count on his own body, his legs, his back, his head, his hips, his feet, even on his neck; (and isn't that a scary thought?) yet he remembered how he got all of them, with excruciatingly painful detail, and hours are spent in the solace of the tiny little room and his own almost inexistent presence to accompany him.

Aomine speaks of all of them, and Kuroko listens closely. Once he starts to remember, he speaks of them as if it's another person's problem - reciting them from memory, mechanically and his tone is empty and hollow, like he's not even present.

Kuroko reacts the only way he thinks he can, because words are too much and too little, and soon, Aomine has his face in his hands, and he's begging Kuroko to stop because he doesn't _deserve _it.

He pays him no heed and continues as he is, making sure to place his lips on each and every scar Aomine's beautiful body shines, lingering there until the story is over. His lips start hurting after some time, but he doesn't give it any thought and keeps at it, until Aomine decides to speak again and even after that.

Thirty-two scars and lingering kisses later have Aomine facing the wall, Kuroko behind him, observing him- not with pity, but with pride and adoration. The broad back is hunched and Kuroko can see the lines clear as day, and he realizes how terribly in love he is with Aomine all over again.

He's like a beautifully painted canvas- messy and blotchy sometimes, with lines that may seem out of place and colors that form a terrible contrast, but create a beautiful image as a whole. And the scars lining his skin only make him more precious to Kuroko, in a morbid kind of way- because it shows Kuroko just how human Aomine really is.

He's just as human as everyone else, impeccable speed and monstrous strength and all, and as he rests his head on top of the still trembling back again there's really only one thing he can say to him after such an exhausting night for the both of them-

It makes Aomine huff and smile and laugh and maybe even cry a little, but it also makes him the happiest man on Earth, if what he says is to be trusted, and Kuroko reciprocates because his smile is contagious- like a disease would be if he weren't so willing to get it, too.

Aomine takes his hands and kisses them repeatedly, even as they're getting ready to sleep, but not before asking him to repeat his words again and again until he's dreaming, and just for that day Kuroko doesn't have much of an argument.

"I love you."

* * *

I like the idea of aggressive Aomine getting into dumbass fights. Isn't cleared up but they're like twenty or so in this.


End file.
